Allergies
by Rb
Summary: It's fluffy. It's Joe-centric. It's got some romance hints. AND IT'S WRITTEN BY ME! Dedicated to everyone who suffers from allergies, especially Joe Kido, resident hypochondriac. ^_^


Allergies

I get the feeling that I should add more to this -- and I may, someday -- but for right now, it is what it is -- a piece of short fluffy Joe-ishness. Apparently, I can't write Joe without having some Mimoe included. Oh, well. You all Have Been Warned. 

I don't own Joe. I don't own the people who made him into a worrywart over all of his allergies. But, for once, I'd like to thank 'em -- after all, now all of us who suffer from allergies constantly (seasonal allergies are a **pain**) have a poster geek. ^_-

**Allergies  
by Rb**

Spring is my worst season.   
  
All the pollen in the air, all the dust kicked up -- it goes straight to my nostrils and sends me into a sneezing fit.  
  
It's not fair, and it's not fun, but what's a kid to do? I keep pills in my backpack in case I go into shock, avoid eating anything made in school grounds, and use every excuse I can to get out of school. I've gone home sick for three afternoons in a row and end up eating my mom's chicken soup, and I have the added perk of being able to skip gym class.   
  
I would have done that today, but it's the last day before spring break and a half-day already -- if I went home early, I wouldn't have enough credits for it to be a full day of school, and I don't want to break my perfect attendence record.  
  
Gym class in April is devoted to softball. All the guys complain about how wussy the balls are and why can't they use real baseballs instead of the stupid, over-sized softballs. All the girls complain about being outside, how cold the wind is, and how they want to go indoooooooors noooooow!  
  
Me, I like standing in the outfield, the only place my classmates will put me. The sun is warm, the wind pleasantly cool, and I don't like to complain, for once. I like to realize how much tougher I am than the other kids are. I mean, I've saved two worlds several times over, not to brag.   
  
Nope! No bragging here! Won't get any more modest than ol' Joe Kido, Digidestined, bearer of the Crest of Reliability, (one of the) savior(s) of the world...  
  
"KIDO! What are you DOING?" bellows Chad, one of my classmates, who is over-gifted in the brawn department but unfortunately neglected in the brain department. "GET THE BALL!"  
  
Of course, being a hero doesn't stop me from daydreaming and completely missing the softball which was thwacked with precision to deep center field, several yards to my right. I dive for the ball, but it skips between my legs. Wincing, I waddle in an undignified manner, scoop up the ball, and toss it to Kenny, the brutish pig guarding first. The ball lands a few feet in front of him. He groans and moves to pick it up.  
  
The runner's rounding second.   
  
When the play is over, the runner's on third and two runs scored. I feel _very_ reliable. The rest of my team is upset: before we were tied, now we're down by two.  
  
I feel like saying "it's only a game!" However, I know it won't work. To them, the gym games are a life and death matter. Matt was kinda like that, everything life or death, no middle ground. The digital world was more intense than any gym class, though.   
  
Eventually, the other team gets three outs and I walk to the dugout. My team shuns me; I sit alone on the end of the bench. Another class is practicing baseball drill skills nearby. From their gym uniforms, I can tell they're from the local elementary school, which uses our facilities for physical education. I crane my neck, searching for anyone I know.  
  
While I'm looking around nervously, some kind-hearted girl with pretty brown hair tied in a ponytail glances my way. Her eyes meet mine, and my heart lifts as I realize this is no chance accident. She nudges her red-headed partner.  
  
"Hey, Izzy," Mimi says in her high sweet tone that carries clearly to my ears, "there's Joe! HI, JOE!" She waves her arms frantically. I lift my chin in return. She grins.  
  
"Nice to see you have a cheering section among the babies," says Chad's ugly voice, and I turn my head to meet him in the eyes. I suppose he would be handsome if he didn't have such a direct resemblence to an ape, or some sort of behind-scratching insect-eating mammal.  
  
"What do you want, Chad?" I ask, working on keeping my tone light and even.   
  
"You're up this inning," he says, wrinkling his nose. "Too many girls on this team, we need to keep the lineup 'boy-girl-boy-girl. You're after Toni and before Jen." Two girls that believe cheerleading is a valid sport and list 'painting their nails' as extracurricular activities. Clearly, I'm with _la creme de la creme_.   
  
Inside, I'm pretty worried, though. I haven't played serious baseball since my Little League days back when I was nine, and I was a benchwarmer anyway. I don't particularly care about doing well in front of my classmates, but I don't want to look stupid in front of Mimi and Izzy -- especially Mimi. I mean, there's nothing worse than looking bad in front of your closest friends, especially when their opinion...  
  
...be truthful, _her_ opinion...  
  
...means more to you than you can admit.  
  
The first kid up to bat is a shy girl by the name of Sage, short and slow. After two swings, she manages to hit a grounder that catches the infielders by shock and ends up on first.  
  
Next is Phil, a lanky blond whose innate grace rivals Matt's. He hits the ball to shallow center field, making it look too easy. He ends up on second, while Sage waddles to third.   
  
Toni's up next. I pick up a bat and attempt to practice, but I know my elbows and knees are sticking out awkwardly and I look like a windmill, so I stop.   
  
Toni goes down on three straight pitches.  
  
It's my turn. I walk up to the plate, already feeling like I might be hyperventilating. I can almost see the dust rising up like little diabolic clouds, and I wonder if I might have an asthma attack by just thinking about the dust clogging my windpipe. One of the kids -- I can't tell which team, everything's a blur except the pounding of blood in my ears -- yells for everyone to move up close, easy out, easy out, easy...  
  
The ball comes close, an off-white sphere heading closer, closer, closer to me...  
  
I swing.  
  
The ball arches away from me with a crack. For a second, I stand still -- I'm in shock. Then I hear Mimi cheering "Go, JOE!" and instinct takes over and I run, run, run, first base is so close. My world hones down to something simple, chasing the white line that leads to the first base and freedom...  
  
There's a soft 'plop'.  
  
And silence.  
  
Then groans.  
  
I look up and see the second baseman -- an athletic girl by the name of Leah -- holding up her glove, smirking proudly as she steps on second. A large white ball is encased in the brown, cracked leather.  
  
It takes me a second to realize that I'm out.  
  
Leah throws the ball to the guy guarding third, and the inning's over. Sage isn't even halfway to home.   
  
Dejectedly, I start walking to my place in right field. Right field, the domain of losers everywhere. It's my place now -- I've certainly earned it. My face is flushed with disappointment and sweat. I adjust my glasses, which have slipped down my nose. My nose feels stuffed and my ears throb -- a sure sign of an allergy attack. If I had a sneezing fit and my heart stopped beating, no one would notice. Or care.  
  
Hmm. The other team racks up runs. No one on my team even bothers to stop them. The gym teacher calls an end to the game five minutes earlier than normal; it's quite clear no one wants to play much.   
  
The other team celebrates. Someone yells "here's to JOE!" I feel like slinking right into the ground, but it would aggravate my allergies too much. Instead, I keep my head up high.  
  
Mimi and Izzy wait for me in sympathetic silence. At least, Izzy practices sympathetic silence. Mimi's sympathy is a little louder.  
  
"Wow, Joe, you hit the ball so hard!"  
  
"Yeah, too bad Leah caught it.."  
  
"If the wind had been a little stronger, I bet that it would have been a grand slam for sure!"  
  
"Home run," Izzy corrects dryly.  
  
"Huh?" Mimi asks, confused.  
  
"Grand slam is when runners are on all three bases. A home run is -- " Izzy sweatdrops, seeing Mimi's blank face. "Never mind."  
  
"Oh." Mimi shrugs. Izzy quickly excuses himself, leaving Mimi and me in semi-privacy. "But anyway, Joe, you looked so cool when you were posing at the plate!"  
  
"Posing?" I ask weakly. My temples are throbbing.   
  
"Yeah, you looked totally handsome!" She grasps my arm.  
  
My pulse quickens -- something that I'm sure is not related to my allergies. "Really?"  
  
"Yeah, like a movie star or something!"  
  
"A movie star..." I can picture the scene. Me, Joe Kido, the movie star -- with a pretty heroine named Mimi at my side.  
  
I don't mind the sound of that.  
  
Suddenly, spring doesn't look so bad after all. I did survive gym class -- and the kids will forget about me over spring break. The sun's warm, the sky blue, and Mimi's by my side.  
  
What more can a guy ask for?  
  
Not even my allergies seem too bad anymore.  
  
-fin-


End file.
